


Every Time I Look Down

by yet_intrepid



Series: fool enough to fight [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arguing, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Implied/Referenced Torture, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)'s Missing Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: Matt groans. “Come the fuck on, Shiro. It’s the best plan we’ve come up with so far.”“Which says nothing except that our previous plans were beyond terrible.” Shiro pushes to his feet, paces the cell. “Even if we stole a pad, what would you do with it? Make us youtube-famous?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lacking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacking/gifts).



> Title is from "Every Time" by The Last Bison:
> 
> every time I look down, every time I look down  
> you were sitting there, waiting on the floor for me  
> every time I look down, every time I look down  
> you were waiting there, opening the door for me.

“No,” Shiro says. “Absolutely not.”

Matt groans. “Come the fuck on, Shiro. It’s the best plan we’ve come up with so far.”

“Which says nothing except that our previous plans were beyond terrible.” Shiro pushes to his feet, paces the cell. “Even if we stole a pad, what would you do with it? Make us youtube-famous?”

“I’d look at the schematics of the ship and get us out of here!” Matt gets up too, crossing the tiny room they’re kept in, and hangs onto Shiro’s arm. “Come on,” he whines. “We’re past due for a new escape attempt.”

Shiro pulls his arm away. “We’re past due for a beating, is what you mean. No, Matt. Just…no.”

“Why the hell not?” Matt’s irritation spikes, his voice pitching low. “You keep playing it safe, we’ll never get out of here.”

“And if you keep being so reckless, we won’t get out either!” Shiro fights to keep from yelling. “Or we will, if you count getting killed as getting out.”

“You don’t know that,” says Matt.

“Yeah, well,” Shiro says, “forgive me in the meantime if I don’t want to watch them whip you again.”

He tosses himself down to sit against the wall again, fear pounding like a migraine behind his eyes. He might have an actual migraine, too, he thinks; everything feels all fuzzy and sharp, and something definitely hurts. But something always hurts, lately, and he’s so tired. He just wants the Galra to leave them alone, him and Matt, because Doc Holt is gone who-knows-where now and while Matt may not care, Shiro’s the next highest officer. That means that he’s responsible; it means that now more than ever it’s his job to keep Matt safe.

“Shiro,” Matt is saying, and Shiro lifts his head from his hands. “Shiro, man, I just can’t do this. I can’t sit here and wait while Dad is—while he’s—fuck.” Matt sits down crosslegged, his back to the door, and hides his own face in turn. Shiro can hear his breath catch.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says, helplessly. “God, Matt, I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Matt mutters. “Just—help me do something. Help me try.”

“Matt,” Shiro says. The quiet desperation in his friend’s voice tears at him—worse than his migraine, worse than any pain he’s ever felt in his body. “Matt, this never ends well.”

“I don’t care,” says Matt to his hands. “I don’t care if they punish me. I can’t do this.”

“I care if they punish you.” Shiro folds his arms around his knees. “That’s what I can’t do. I can’t get you hurt.”

“It won’t be your fault,” Matt says. “Please, Shiro. Please.”

“Let me do it alone,” says Shiro, because he can’t say no anymore, not when Matt’s flat voice shakes like that. “That’s my condition. I steal the pad, you use it to find the escape route.”

Matt stares at him. “No,” he says. “Absolutely not. You aren’t taking the fall for me.”

“You’re assuming I’ll get caught,” Shiro points out. He believes it himself, that there’s no way for this to end well, but there’s no need for Matt to be hopeless too. “Trust me a little.”

“I do trust you,” Matt says. “But you know these assholes. Nothing gets past them.”

“And that’s an argument for you stealing it because?” Shiro asks.

“Because,” Matt fumbles, “because—it just is, okay, shut up.”

Shiro feels that deep pain surge again. He presses the heels of his hands against his aching eyes, as if the pressure of his hands can fight back sorrow. “You want them to hurt you.”

“I want to feel like I tried!” Matt pulls back a fist, considers punching the metal floor, and thankfully decides against it. “Why does it matter, anyway? Why does it matter if they go to town on me over a stolen pad or over some bullshit research question the Druids are trying to figure out? It’s going to happen soon enough even if we _don’t_ pull any shit.” His voice softens as he meets Shiro’s eyes. “You can’t protect me in here.”

“I can try,” Shiro says, bitter and tired. “Damn it, Matt, I have to try.”

Matt shakes his head. “Compromise,” he says. “I don’t do it without you, and you don’t do it without me. If we go down—”

“We go down together,” Shiro finishes. And he hates it, still, but Matt is right: if they don’t stick together, they really have nothing left.

“Okay,” Shiro says. “Okay.”


End file.
